


Mountain Streams

by scrawly_times



Series: Fins [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adaro!Bilbo, Alternate Universe, M/M, background bofur/fili, idk whether to tag all the chars just yet?, slowburn bagginshield to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrawly_times/pseuds/scrawly_times
Summary: The Battle of Five Armies and what comes after.Dwarves don't come off very well from a brush with Azog's line and neither does an adaro. The Line of Durin hangs on to life by threads and one Bilbo Baggins sleeps very, very deeply.





	1. Bilbo No

**Author's Note:**

> WELL thanks for you few who left kudos and bookmarks :P
> 
> Not entirely sure if the Graphic Violence warning is warranted, but it gets painful, so watch out. This also may contain a fair amount of whump

It had been a very stressful handful of weeks for one Bilbo Baggins. The battle added on top of it did _not_ help.

He’d still been healing, but he’d felt well enough to try hobbit form when they left Laketown. Never before had his spine felt so thoroughly _abused._ As soon as this mess was over with Bilbo planned on crawling up underneath the docks of Bard’s house and sleeping in the water warmed by proximity to the hearth.

The ashes that dropped into the water didn’t even matter. Bilbo was _exhausted._ What injuries that weren’t given time to heal seemed to be sapping it out of his energy and strength.

Then he had to deal with a nosy dragon - scaled things, _beastly_ really - and then the entire lot of the dwarves went mad _starkers._ And the other landwalkers seemed to be just as bloody mad!

Oh Bilbo would have quite a few words to say to them all if he weren’t too busy running about trying to _fix_ the accursed messes they all dragged themselves into.

The battle took the fucking cake, and Bilbo was not bothered at _all_ by the cursing, in fact, because the situation entirely _fucking deserved it._

There was little a hobbit could do in such a massive army, and indeed there was less an already battered adaro could do, so he found no reason to reveal his true self. Instead he snuck about rather unhappily nabbing whatever orcs he could with Sting. Bilbo thanked Yavanna that he was not _actually_ one of her children, and instead an intelligent predator. Hobbits were good beings and all but he was much more thankful for his inbuilt fight or flight responses.

Thorin, goddamn him, was an absolute fool.

So was he, actually. Finding Thorin in the battle had been rather hard but he did it. He followed that arrogant, mad _asshole_ all the way through Middle Earth and he wasn’t going to let the bastard die now. Especially not to motherfucking _Azog._

Before Bilbo could make himself rethink anything, he launched himself through the gaps in the ice after the pale orc’s ‘body’ and ignored Thorin’s surprised shout.

Azog was certainly surprised to see him. The beast had clearly planned to pretend death in order to get at Thorin in a moment of surprise, but Azog, like the hapless orc before him, had made one single and last mistake.

He’d put himself in the water. _With Bilbo._

Bilbo paid no mind to the clothes tearing around him, though he would later mourn the second set of clothes he’d torn in a month changing forms. He was no fresh out of the water youngling with no control over his changing!

It actually hurt, a lot. Bilbo was suddenly aware why every older adaro had cautioned him heavily against ever changing forms with large injuries. He writhed in pain as he changed before the freezing _cold_ hit both sets of gills and the sheer shock had him freezing up.

Past the quickly numbing skin of his hairline, his barbels and fins _knew_ Azog was not a free floating body. There was resistance, there were slight adjustments to keep balanced. Bilbo lost those minute feelings to the cold within moments but he shook himself out of shock and pushed off the ice with numb claws towards the orc.

The fight that happened from there was the most brutal Bilbo had ever faced. Even half frozen, running out of air in his lungs, and sorely out of his element, Azog… well. Azog kicked his ass.

The one limitation that both of them fell to was the freezing cold. Underneath Laketown the water was warmer if only slightly and Bilbo had not spent any great amount of consecutive time in it. Since then, there’d been a strong cold spell, and Bilbo certainly didn’t have anywhere near the fat necessary to ward it off like his colder leaning kin would.

Azog’s limited air supply was the biggest problem, though, and Bilbo was _very_ firmly pushing Azog away from the ice and keeping him from gathering his feet underneath him. When Azog tried to shift in the water Bilbo’s tail was sweeping currents at him to unbalance him.

The fight itself was a mix of physical tussling and a battle to either reach the ice or keep the other from it.

Bilbo was but a toy compared to Azog. Adaro were larger than hobbits, but only ever so slightly, and they certainly didn’t match up to a massive white orc. He could not allow the orc to get ahold of him. But the cold was hitting both of them hard and his fins weren’t responding correctly or as fast as he needed them to.

Azog lashed out, hand _crushing_ Bilbo’s tail and fins together and he _screamed_ in a hissing wail that echoed against the underside of the ice.

Bilbo wriggled his way out from his grasp and headbutted Azog right in the eye with his horn, the orc grabbing him again and tearing him away before he could go much deeper. Azog’s metal hand scored an agonizing slash across Bilbo’s left side, digging past skin and into gills and cracking ribs in Azog’s strength. That was when Bilbo’s brain stopped making sense and all that was left was infuriated adaro.

Adaro were not peaceful creatures, as Bilbo had previously told the Company and Bard. This wasn’t a lie on his part. He’d certainly _thought_ adaro were. They’d spent several millennia in close company with _hobbits._ But while they’d fished in calm waters and hunted only fat, lazy fish there was one thing adaro would never truly leave behind.

Adaro of old had been vicious predators, hunting any and all beings of the land who approached their waters. They’d been large, foreign creatures of mysterious waters. In those older days one did not challenge an adaro’s territory lightly. To enter the water with an adaro in it was considered death.

The small, rounded adaro who lived among the Shire were not anything like their terrifying ancestors. But evolution could only take away so much. In every adaro of the Shire there laid the fight or flight instincts that made an apex predator the top of the food chain.

And Bilbo higher brain functions were currently slowed down to a stop by cold and pain. The baser instincts took over.

Claws, fangs, and horn flashed in dangerous and furious flailing, a high pitched wail echoing through the water. There was no mind or pattern behind it. Just an enraged predator lashing out with every weapon at its disposal to put a threat _down._

In the end, that wasn’t even what finally killed Azog. It was the water. The tiny irritating target had done its job and thoroughly kept Azog from ever managing to break the ice. Bilbo going crazy and nearly ripping out Azog’s intestines was the final straw. The orc struggled to reach the surface in his last moments, giving up trying to fight Bilbo, but the adaro had successfully let the current sweep them both away from the shallower water and Azog was not near enough to the bottom or surface to break through.

It took Bilbo longer than it probably should have to realize Azog was dead. He wasn’t quite sure when he even realized that, finding himself drifting away in the current sometime later. He kept fading in and out of awareness. He wasn’t even sure where he was. At one point Bilbo found himself crawling out of the water, sinking into the murky mud of half frozen reeds. The water was warmer near the rot and green, even if not near enough. He vaguely recalled giving into his tiredness and burrowing himself half-heartedly in the reeds, sinking deep deep into a sleep so warm he practically fled towards it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: fish don't hibernate, or at least no freshwater fish. They do however enter a slower state known as a torpor in very cold weather where they - essentially - sleep a LOT and hardly move. 
> 
> Azog's move of going underwater always strikes me as particularly stupid. It's ice. It's REALLY THICK ice. It's really thick ice over a RATHER FAST CURRENT. Unless orcs receive training in underwater maneuvers, I really, really doubt he made it out of that by anything other than sheer luck and brute strength. Having grown up on rivers, that current that pulled him away may have looked like a gentle flow, but I guarantee you once under that ice you wouldn't be able to get your feet underneath you on the slippery ground with that current pulling on you. And the ice on top of you? Ho boy, you ain't getting back to the spot you fell in. Don't play on ice kids.
> 
> Also the cold. The COLD. Cold is a very, very dangerous part of winter. Cold WATER is almost always COLDER THAN THE AIR n those temperatures. Meaning you're covered head to foot in freezing liquids sapping your body heat at frightening speeds as thermodynamic equilibrium decides to fuck you over. Either orcs can survive being frozen solid (not likely) or he IMMEDIATELY regretted that trip underwater and that was why he burst through so angrily afterwards
> 
> I know it seems like I'm complaining and I promise, I really enjoyed the movies, but there are just some things the Nerd inside me can't stand, and one of those is when basic physics is ignored


	2. Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard remembers Bilbo, the 'adaro' creature with fangs and claws and a fearsome horn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS for all the kudos and everything aaaaaaa
> 
> I'd actually be happy if anyone's interested in helping beta this fic because I am half asleep like 60% of the time while writing and it probably shows

Dealing with the aftermath of the battle was no easier than the battle itself. But Bard found it in himself to still be relieved it was over. Figuring out how to get the residents of Laketown taken care of in time for winter was taking top priority and unfortunately Bard was somehow the one everyone was turning to. He had little attention to spare outside of his people. But this…

“Bard, you need to come see this.” Arkaley, a fisherman Bard had grown to trust in the aftermath, appeared at his elbow hunched over and nervous. The man hadn’t regained his nerves since the Battle but Bard didn’t fault him for it.

“Can you not handle it, friend?” Bard leaned over to whisper, eyes watching the building construction in front of him. “I trust you to deal with matters with discretion.”

“It is… a strange matter.” Arkaley muttered to himself briefly, hands fidgeting. 

Bard gave one last look over the Men and dwarrow and then gave Arkaley his full attention. 

“What is it?”

“As you know we’ve been trying to fish the Lake and tributaries, though most fish sleep in Winter and are hard to catch.” Arkaley rubbed his hands together and Bard noticed the mud and algae drying on his boots. “We’ve caught little, but one of the boys… found something on the shoreline by Beaver’s Dam.”

“One of the runoffs?” Bard frowned. “I told you not to send fishermen to those waters, the fish are likely ruined by orc and dragon and we are not yet so desperate as to risk poisoning ourselves.”

Arkaley flinched back a little but rallied himself. “Aye! We did not, but the children do try what they can in these days. I’d give the boy a riot myself-” Bard somewhat doubted that, but Arkaley  _ was _ rather concerned with the state and quality of fish who had been swimming in orc and dragon leftovers. “-but see, while searching for a spot to cast a throw line he found… something in the reeds.” Arkaley’s voice lowered to a whisper, Bard leaning in close to catch it. “Some foul slimy thing. He did not do much after having poked it with a stick but instead fetched me. I bid him tell no one else and came straight to you after I’d seen it myself. I left him watching it with a wooden spear in case it was still alive.”

“Do you believe it to be some orc beast?” Bard’s frown was deepening, an inkling of a familiar thought in his mind.

“Not that I’ve seen. I should hope no orc ever grew fins nor gills!” Arkaley shuddered, hands wringing violently. 

Bard put a hand on his arm, trying to calm him before any noticed, though he doubt they’d see it as anything but Arkaley being overly panicked over some small matter like usual. Bard had to calm him from his fits often but he still trusted Arkaley’s instinct and word.

That small inkling of a thought was growing larger.

“Bring me to it.”

The walk consisted of Bard and Arkaley acting normal and trading reports on the progress of various projects around Dale. Fishing was going poorly in the cold as expected, but there were some hands not skilled or capable of much else and even the few fish they caught were put to good use. Building shelters was going somewhat easier due to King Dain assigning some of his Iron Hill dwarves to help them in exchange for sharing what little food they could spare. Dale and Erebor were going to have a very difficult first winter, that was for certain.

Just  _ reaching  _ Beaver’s Dam was a challenge in and of itself. It was mostly a small pond, really, from a small runoff stream of the Lake that had been dammed up long ago. The pond was almost run dry by now and the area was overgrown.

By the time Bard and Arkaley reached the small clearing, hardly big enough to fit a single person, they were both warmed up in the cold air and covered in leaves and mud. Bard could barely reach the area. Arkaley was a slim man and capable of fitting in the narrow bush paths a teenage boy had taken. Bard was considerably broader. 

“Ulpin.” Arkaley greeted simply, hands fidgeting as Bard squeezed past him with some difficulty. The boy was hardly even a teenager, young and clearly frightened.

“Lord Bard!” Ulpin said with wide eyes, nodding his head and holding onto his makeshift spear tighter. Bard gave the boy a motion to relax and walked closer to the water’s edge.

Here the ground gave way to river reeds almost immediately. The reeds had been pushed away and hacked in some places, so Bard could see the still form of a small figure in the water. He cursed quietly and cast around for a stick.

Bard knelt down on the water’s edge, reaching out to brush aside reeds and sludge to see oddly familiar slimy skin. He cursed even louder.

“Bilbo…” Bard spoke under his breath. “Your dwarves have been looking for you, friend.” Still, he continued to poke around and move the still figure until he managed to get a good look at his face and horn. Just to be certain.

“Bard?” Arkaley crept just a little closer through the underbrush. 

“Has he moved at all?” Bard dropped the stick, giving up his muddied and already soaked feet for loss and stepping into the slight shallows. The water was not deep but the mud sank him deep and the freezing cold water rushed over his boots. Ulpin made an oddly startled, strangled noise of fright.

“No sir! Not at all, even when I poked it rather hard!” Ulpin was brave enough to take a few steps closer and peer over Bard’s shoulders.

“This… this creature is a he, not an it, and we owe him quite much.” Bard said, distracted. His searching fingers could hardly find a pulse. Worse, he felt no warmth at all from Bilbo’s skin, even nearer his gills where blood should flow more. 

* * *

 

_ “Why do you not sleep, Master Baggins?” Bard eyed the creature warily. The dwarves who’d practically invaded his house were all asleep and stretched out, except for the one or two awake to keep watch. He wasn’t sure how he felt that even in the safety of Laketown they could not bring themselves to sleep without a guard. _

_ Bilbo, the ‘adaro’, did not help his suspicions towards the group lie. The creature was small and unassuming but he saw those fangs and claws where the dwarves seemed to not. He knew the ferocity of fish and creatures of the water. He knew the strength and muscle living things could pack into small sizes underwater. _

_ The adaro’s eyes blinked up and open at him, wide pupils nearly catlike in how they hid almost all the whites of his eyes. _

_ “Oh, I… I cannot sleep on land. I would suffocate.” The adaro pulled his slowly drying blanket tighter. “In fact, soon I will have to go back under the water to breathe and soak your generously loaned blanket again.”  _

_ “Then why not simply stay underwater through the night and sleep there?” Bard found himself genuinely curious. The dwarves’ utter lack of fear was certainly contagious, and their comparisons of this strange creature to a fussy little halfling helped as well. Er, hobbit. _

_ “It is far too cold.” Bilbo smiled, just so, and then quickly pursed his lips together. Bard had caught the glimpse of sharp teeth in his slip nonetheless. _

_ “Cold?” Bard said. He kept his knowledge of fish and hibernating in Winter to himself, sure Bilbo would not appreciate being compared to a fish, no matter how similar his skin was to a catfish. _

_ “Adaro are not quite cold blooded like reptiles, but we are still not the best at keeping ourselves warmed.” Bard’s eye caught the way Bilbo was tightly curled in on himself as if cold and yet did not go near the fire. The flames would likely dry him out far faster than he could bear. “Especially not me, used to the warm, gentle waters of the Shire. In the winter if we desire warmer waters we- well, there are certainly ways!” Bilbo caught himself, leaving the sentence hanging. It must have been some adaro thing he did not want to tell a near stranger when neither of them had quite decided whether to trust each other. _

_ “And it is Winter, and the waters are freezing.” Bard concluded, head tilting somewhat.  _

_ “Unfortunately so.” Bilbo muttered darkly.  _

* * *

 

“Bard?” Arkaley said incredulously. 

“Neither of you will breathe a word of this to anyone else.” Bard said firmly. “Master Baggins’ true self was a secret to all but his Company and I  _ will not _ spill it.”

“Baggins? But-” Ulpin breathed sharply. “The thirteenth member of Thorin’s Company? He’s… supposed to be a halfling.” Bard corrected the boy on the right word under his breath, pulling reeds aside.

“And the dwarves are searching for him near frantically!” Arkaley said and whimpered. 

Bard bent down and ignored the water soaking his arms as he tried to scoop Bilbo up, then realized that the small creature was heavily injured. Dangerously so.

“And we shall let them know of his continued survival in a way that does  _ not _ reveal him to any other than the Company until he wishes or his life requires it.” Bard said grimly. He did not wish… Bilbo had been so  _ certain, _ so plain in stating that adaro  _ hid. _ Fierce looking creatures or no they did not reveal themselves to any other than the hobbits of the Shire. Bard did not know or understand why but he was not about to let a secret loose he had no reason to stir. “Do either of you know of the healer Oin?”

“That… that’s a dwarf, yes?” Arkaley was wringing his hands again.

“One of the Company, I’ve heard.” Ulpin contributed, then backed away nervously.

“Be careful what gossip you hear.” Bard said gruffly, though unnerved by how much had seemingly been spread around in less than a week. Bodies still lay untended to and the Company itself had yet to find time to speak to Bard. How had stories spread so quickly? He felt the dramatic storytelling of the dwarves was somehow to blame. “Do either of you know any place…” He made a frustrated, abandoned motion. “We need to get him to warmer water. He’s not meant for the cold. And we need to get him somewhere the healer can see to him.”

“Isn’t he tending King Thorin..?” Ulpin said quietly.

“He’d… he’d need running water too, if he breathes as a fish.” Arkaley offered weakly. Bard was warmed by the trust his fellow Man was showing in taking Bard at his word. No doubt Arkaley was one or two off sentences from one of his fits and yet here he was still trying to offer Bard advice. “Fish- they breathe water, yes, but they- they cannot breathe stale waters.”

Bard nodded, looking up and making sure Arkaley could see the gratitude in his eyes.

“Warm waters, there’s hardly- well, nothing we can do about that.” Arkaley continued to stutter. “But- but running, yes, there’s- there are several shallower streams and pools up nearby Dale. All we need do is find one untaken and not- not  _ spoiled  _ by orcish blood.”

Bard smiled grimly. “Then I would have you, Ulpin, search for Oin. Use my name if need be. Do not stretch truths, but do not let any but him hear of our finding Master Bilbo.” Bard paused. “And be careful, if I recall he’s a might bit deaf. We do not need to cause panic but I feel we need him as soon as possible.” He frowned worriedly at the adaro in the water. He hadn’t ever got a good look at his tail, but he was fairly certain that fins did not bend that way.

“Yes sir.” Ulpin straightened up, eyes wide but face filled with a certain pride that bit past the weariness they had all been feeling. Ah, for the ability to bounce back like the young.

“What are you waiting for? Go! I’ll find some way to let you know where we end up.” Ulpin was already bolting off through the brush when Bard turned to Arkaley. “Friend, I would have you find some spare blankets, and a wheelbarrow, if possible. Hurry!” Arkaley, still wringing his hands and looking about ready to twist them right off the wrists, turned and ran off. 

Bard sighed and pulled Bilbo nearer him, in hopes of helping him fend off cold just a bit during the wait.  _ He _ was certainly shivering already in the water, even when it only came up to his boots. 

“I should hope your friend comes quickly.” Bard muttered. 

Bilbo did not stir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired and don't actually have much to say about this chapter except that Bard and Bilbo is one of my favorite brotps
> 
> I also grew up fishing on a river and don't know too much about lakes but they DO feed and are fed by said rivers so pardon me while I slide in small bits and pieces of my own knowledge of water stuff
> 
> Arkaley and Ulpin are both OCs I may or may not keep using depending on how much OC interaction is needed in the future who knOWS i do quite like Arkaley though


	3. With the Company...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we see how the Company has been handling the aftermath.
> 
> Turns out not too well, but at least no one's dead yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this verse Dori's a lady dwarf and Ori's nonbinary but uses whatever pronouns. The dwarves take this as a challenge and each of them has pronouns they use for Ori... which obv confused poor Bilbo a ton at first lmao
> 
> I shit you not I've had to keep a list of what all the dwarves are doing and how they're injured because it's soooo hard to keep track of like sixteen+ characters. the first thing on that list is "thorin is rekt" because i am a total professional writer who takes super serious notes

Oin took a deep breath and let it out, taking a moment to brace himself against his brother’s shoulder.

“Hey old timer. Having some trouble there?” Gloin laughed humorlessly. 

“I haven’t had proper time to sit an’ sleep since the damn Battle began,” Oin grumbled. “An if Dori don’t sit her arse down and stop tryin ta mother every damn creature on two legs I’m gonna nail that arse to a bed.” Oin cursed under his breath in Khuzdal, leaning a little heavier against Gloin for a moment before straightening up. “And ye?”

Gloin made a face. “Havin’ a hard time standin up or down but once I’m one o’th two I’m fine.” Oin grunted and eyed his brother’s side, knowing a rather nasty gash laid there. Gloin gave a greatly pained sigh and rolled his eyes. “And yer not the only one exhausted. Only got Nori and Bofur to help me watch, an they’ve both family they need to keep eyes on too.” Not that they didn’t trust other dwarves to guard the royal tent, it was just… the Company preferred to stick together.

Oin accepted that a little easier. “And our  _ charming _ royals?”

“Thorin’s been passed out near constant and nearly popped Nori in the nose when he awoke for bout five minutes.” Gloin said, Oin chortling briefly. “Fili’s set up camp at the end of Kili’s cot an won’t budge. Kili keeps comin in and out of it.” Oin sighed and nodded, clapping Gloin’s shoulder and moving to enter the tent. “Who’s the lad?” Gloin’s mustache twitched and he looked at the concerned young Lakeman who was trailing behind Oin like a lost puppy.

“Been following me trying to get me to go talk to Bard about somethin, says it’s important but won’t tell me what it is.” Oin said with a small huff.

“Need me ta make him get lost?” Gloin lowered his voice so the lad wouldn’t hear, giving the Man a narrow glare.

“Nah,” Oin shook his head. “Told ‘im ta talk to Balin if it’s that important but he says he needs me in particular. Gonna check on everyone and then go see what Bard needs.” Then after that he’d see about getting some actual sleep himself.

Gloin grunted in acknowledgement and Oin entered the tent. Inside lay the leader of their Company, bedridden and unconscious for the majority of the past few days. Thorin’s battle with Azog had already worn him out and left him injured and charging in to fight Bolg hadn’t helped him any, leaving him with two large stab wounds. One went straight through his abdomen and the other went through his shoulder and had cracked one of his collarbones. 

Combined with a large collection of bruises and cuts all over and Thorin hadn’t woken up but a few times since the battle. His foot was infected and Oin was trying to save it as best as he could but it was looking like amputation would have to be done before the infection spread to his blood.

The stab wounds were the true concern though. The one in his abdomen was deep and nearly went straight through him. Everyone was still unsure whether Thorin would live, even with the best healers tending him.

His rush to help his nephews had likely saved their lives though. Kili laid in a cot of his own, nearby Thorin’s, on the edge of death and being watched at all times. If it weren’t for Thorin’s intervention he wouldn’t still  _ have  _ the chance to survive the knife’s edge he was balanced on right now. Chest wounds were deadly and difficult to treat.

Fili had not been as grievously injured, with broken ribs and a broken leg the worst of it, but he was still confined to the tent and in danger while he was coughing up blood. He was the only one of the three up and conscious and had flat out refused to leave his family’s side. Balin and Dain could manage things while they were yet unsure if Erebor would have any of its royalty  _ left. _

Oin nodded to Bofur as he entered. They’d been all taking watches keeping an eye on the royal tent. None of them would have begrudged Bofur being left out of watches, Bifur and Bombur were in a nearby tent injured (and in Bifur’s case very, very absent minded) and Bofur had his hands full enough taking care of them. But they also couldn’t turn him down when he sat by Fili’s cot with an uncharacteristic stoney expression and refused to budge until the next watch’s turn. He was also one of the few of the Company not injured or busy with the aftermath. Their watch was sparse enough as is.

And they still had no idea where Bilbo was. The only consolation was that they hadn’t found a  _ body _ yet.

“Alright Fili, let’s lookit ye.” Oin shuffled over to Kili’s cot and looked Fili over. “Breathing any easier?”

Fili made a sign of agreement in Iglishmek, bags under his eyes dark and insistent. Between worry and breathing troubles he’d had a hard time sleeping.

“And yer coughing?”

“Stopped coughing up blood. Dried bits are still comin up every now an then though. Not coughing every other minute now either.” Bofur filled in. Fili nodded.

“And might I ask how you got over here from yer cot?” Oin tutted while checking the cast. At least they were smart enough to prop his leg up on a stool. 

Fili turned a little red.  _ Bofur helped me  _ he signed.

“Lad it’s not gonna help ya any to just not speak til yer chest is better.” Oin chided. “I’m not sayin ya go and chatter on, but ya should still talk.”

“Hurts to breathe an talk.” Fili muttered.

“As it should when half yer chest is cracked to pieces.” Oin smacked him lightly on his arm. Fili grumbled a bit without actually voicing anything. “Now, sittin up without a backrest’s not gonna help ye either. I expect ye to be laid back down on yer own cot the MINUTE ye feel like you’re tirin, got it?” Oin glared Fili down until he finally nodded mulishly. Then he turned to Bofur. “I’m expectin you ta hold him to that, got it?” His tone brooked no argument and Bofur nodded too.

Oin looked down at Kili next, moving the blanket aside to check his bandages. There was very little they could do for him now except keep infection clear. Thranduil himself had done everything he could. It was up to Kili and fate now. And  _ damn _ it pissed all of them off that they couldn’t do anything about it.

Then there was Thorin. The bandages around his abdomen had to be redone, the stitches looked over carefully. Thorin had already ripped several stitches out waking up and flailing about incoherently. If he’d woken up  _ again _ Oin had no doubt there was a repeat performance. 

His right foot, though…

Oin sighed heavily. “It’s no use, we can’t wait any longer. His foot’s going to have to be amputated.”

Fili made a small wounded gasp, then hunched in on himself. Bofur stood up quickly and went to comfort him.

“No savin it..?” Bofur said quietly.

“The infection’s spreading.” Oin explained grimly. “Who knows what filth is on orc blades. We’ve cleaned it best we could and left it, but if the infection reaches his blood his chances of surviving go out the window. Not with a hole in his gut already a threat. We  _ cannot _ wait any longer in hopes the infection will clear up.” 

Bofur nodded, arms wrapping carefully around Fili’s shoulders. “When will ye do it?”

Oin took a deep breath, feeling his age. That Bofur, goofy cheerful  _ Bofur, _ was having to act the rock to some of them was a big blow. He just hoped the lad could bounce back after this whole matter was done with.

“As soon as possible.” Oin said tiredly. “He’ll have to be moved to another tent for it.” Oin looked out the small gap of the tent’s entrance and sighed. “I’ll get several of the healers to help  move him in a moment.”

“He’s gonna hate it,” Fili croaked. “He’ll not be able to mock Dain’s foot anymore.”

Bofur laughed and Oin chuckled wryly. Fili’s tone fell flat, but a bit of humor was helpful right now.

“Aye an ye can bet he’s gonna be hell to keep down until the stump’s healed.” Oin shook his head with a slight grin.

“I’ll sit on him, I will.” Fili said mutinously. Bofur patted his arm.

“An I’m sure he’ll near tear yer head off for it.” Bofur said, mouth quirking. Then he looked up at Oin. “Have yeh seen Bombur..?”

“Stopped by before I came, he’s doin fine as he can be.” Oin nodded. “Bifur’s head started bleedin’ again but he’s not wanderin’ too bad.” 

Bombur had a rather bad knock on the head and hadn’t quite recovered enough to be walking about. The last time he’d tried he’d tipped over and nearly poked an eye out on a table’s edge. This was understandably worrying for Bofur, who also had to deal with Bifur’s old axe wound being torn open. It was doing as well as it could be, and it wasn’t likely Bifur would suddenly drop dead after all these years of the axe having  _ been _ there, but Bifur wasn’t reacting too well. He was vacant and not talking or taking notice of the people around him. Occasionally he’d seem to notice them, but rarely. 

Bofur smiled gratefully. Oin gave him and Fili a careful lookover on his way out, noting the way Fili leaned into him. He notched an eyebrow pointedly and Bofur was turning red when he flipped the tent flap out of the way and exited. He stood and chuckled a moment. Ah, young dwarrows. 

“Master Oin?” The teenager that had been following him around spoke up cautiously, giving Gloin a fearful look. Oin gave his brother an exasperated look and Gloin just grinned.

“Sorry, Ulpin, lad. Gonna have ta hold yer horses a bit more. Going to have to go into surgery.” Gloin jerked to look at him worriedly. Oin put aside everything else and focused once more on his professional side. “D’ye mind runnin errands while ye wait?”

Ulpin looked uncertain but then shook his head. “Not at all, Master Oin.” He was put out, but still ready to do as told.

“Good lad. First I need ye to fetch Healer Adris…” 

* * *

 Arkaley had insisted on pushing the wheelbarrow as they passed near Dale. He continued pushing it even as they traveled through underbrush and animal paths not fit for the wheels until Bard finally made him stop and lifted the wheelbarrow’s load of blankets soaked in pond water.

The stream they eventually came upon had slightly murky waters filled with weeds and laid in the bright sunlight without trees shadowing it. It was the warmest waters they’d find in Winter.

“Water’s been pooling in a small bend,” Arkaley muttered. “Not a pond quite yet nor big enough to hold any fish but large enough to hold Master Baggins, should be.”

“This stream’s small enough I doubt any fish but minnows swim around.” Bard agreed. “Thank you greatly for your assistance, Arkaley.”

Arkaley hunched in on himself and bit the insides of his cheeks. “Aye, sir, couldn’t leave you to this creature alone.” Bard almost leveled him a warning look but Arkaley glared at him. “No no, don’t gimme that, I don’t care if you know it or not, I will  _ not _ risk it. This creature is not one you or I have ever  _ heard _ of and we know naught what it’s capable of.”

Bard set his jaw. “Be that as it may, we still owe him a great debt.” And Bard left it at that. He was pushing Arkaley’s nerves enough already.

When they came upon the bend Bard set to digging Bilbo up from the bundle of soaked blankets he’d been hidden in. He hated to even touch the adaro in this state. Bard hadn’t gotten a good look at his tail but his fins were  _ crushed _ and flopped wrongly in his arms. That wasn’t even to mention the ugly gash in Bilbo’s side covering his gills. The only good side Bard could think of was that Bilbo didn’t seem to be bleeding near as bad as the wound suggested he should.

Bard walked into the deep curve of the stream, Bilbo in his arms and Arkaley fretting from the bank. Even being deeper than the surrounding water it only came up to his waist. He settled the adaro down carefully and let him go, watching him sink easily into the water. Bard could only just see Bilbo’s shape under the water.

He then climbed out, shaking his feet and trying to hold in his shudders.

“Agh, let us make a fire so you can warm up and dry off,” Arkaley suggested worriedly, eyes twitching. “The trees will keep us hidden fair enough and there’s likely some firewood lying about.”

Bard sighed and nodded. It wouldn’t do for him to get sick from the chill. He was shivering, soaked from the chest down in cold water.

“Do you have flint and iron?” Arkaley paused and shook his head. “Then you head back to Dale and find Bain and a firestarter. Bring him back, and Ulpin if he’s found Master Oin. I will wait here.”

Arkaley gave him a rather annoyed face but eventually agreed. He did insist on leaving Bard with his own jacket, so he could get out of his wet shirt at least and not freeze in the wind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wounds taken only partially from movie. medical stuff is... all halfway pulled out my arse, so sorry for any inconsistencies ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> actual conversation with bro/kinda beta reader while discussing the injuries everyone's got:
> 
> "....  
> I'M GONNA MAKE THORIN LOSE A FOOT"
> 
> "sorry thorin bye bye right foot  
> infection's a bitch (:  
> i mean do you think orcs fuckin clean their blades who KNOWS what shit was on there"
> 
> and as you can see i am in dire need of a beta reader to help make sure my ridiculous ass fucks this up as little as possible lmao


	4. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I'm incapable of writing transitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably stop working on this fic at midnight

Oin left the healer’s tent with a weary sigh, wiping his hands with a wet rag.

“Well?” Dwalin demanded immediately. At his sides Balin and the Ri family waited worriedly as well.

“It went well,” Oin smiled as wide as he could while feeling like he was about to drop from exhaustion and the nerves of operating on his King. “Now we have to keep an eye on the stump for infection along with complications from his gut, but there’s no sign the infection from his foot spread any further.”

They all sighed in relief, Dori hugging her siblings with her eyes closed. Balin lifted his head up and thanked Mahal.

“I should go tell everyone else,” Ori said, looking like he was about to cry.

“No you’ll sit down and take a break before you fall over,” Dori insisted.

“Dori,  _ you _ haven’t even sat down since you got up this morning.” Nori ratted Dori out without hesitation and she hit the back of Nori’s head.

“We  _ all _ need a break,” Oin gave Dori and Dwalin pointed looks but made sure to include everyone else in it too. “But there’s not much to be done in tough times. Though you lot with injuries should be sittin yer arses in a cot and not movin.”

“Aye,” Balin sighed. “Let’s all meet in the Royal tent an discuss.  _ Then _ we can all take a break. I’ve been doin nothin but talkin to Dain an organizin things round here. I haven’t even any wounds and  _ I’m  _ worn out.”

Oin noticed a particular youth still lingering nearby and thanked Mahal the boy at least had sense not to interrupt anything. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“You all do that, this lad’s been buggerin for my attention all day. I’ll not take long I don’t think.” Dwalin eyed Ulpin and Oin smacked his arm with a scowl. “Gloin’s terrified the poor lad enough, he’s fine.”

“At least let me come with you,” Nori suggested. Oin rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing. They’d already set up a plan of nobody in the Company being alone. He was lucky enough to get most of his healer’s duties done on his own, with Nori only shadowing him every now and then. 

* * *

 

“Y’know lad if you’re tryina take us out of sight of everyone and kill us, you’re doin a mighty poor job of doin it sneakily.” Nori flipped a knife idly in his hands, strolling behind Ulpin and in front of Oin. They’d been walking for quite a while and there wasn’t even a real path to follow anymore.

Ulpin turned around, flustered. “No! Why would I do that? I can’t even- Bard’s out here, Arkaley said they’d found a spot by this tributary!” Ulpin looked far too distressed and Oin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Listen laddie, I haven’t had more than a couple hours naps since the Battle, an I’ve been rushin back and forth from tent to tent keepin folks together. I am too  _ old  _ and too  _ tired _ to deal with any cowshit-” Oin was interrupted by Bard’s timely greeting.

“Don’t take out your anger on Ulpin, he’s only been doing as he’s told.” Bard looked stressed and tired, but relieved at finding them.

“What kinda matter needs me so far from the healing tents that ye can’t come fetch me yerself?” Oin said grumpily. Nori nodded behind him.

“Ulpin happened to find Master Baggins.” Bard said grimly.

Nori fumbled his catch and dropped his knife.

“And ye couldn’t tell any of us?!” Oin bristled. He was  _ really _ exhausted and grouchy and he did  _ not _ feel like dealing with anyone’s bullshit.

“Not where others may hear.” Bard was frowning. “He’s injured, badly, and in his… natural form.”

Nori cursed in Khuzdal. Oin joined him.

“Don’t dally, take me to him!” Oin nearly shouted and they were quickly led through a small copse and to a clearing, Bard speaking as they went.

“Ulpin found him early in the day and he hasn’t even stirred. He’s cold, freezing, but we can’t find way to warm him without suffocating him.” Bard’s legs kept pace easily with their rushing half run. “He’s… badly injured, I don’t know what happened. The only ones who know of finding him are myself, Ulpin, and my trusted friend Arkaley.”

They burst out of the trees to see a small campfire tended by a hunched over Man. 

Arkaley near jumped out of his skin and made several sputtering noises but the dwarves ignored him. Bard pat him on the shoulder comfortingly before rushing to pull Bilbo from the stream. At least now they had a fire and (now mostly dried, if smelling like tepid pond water) blankets to warm him after.

“Mahal’s  _ balls _ that ain’t right!” Nori grimaced, stomach twisting at the sight of Bilbo’s fins so crushed.

“Set him down,” Oin demanded, pulling one of the blankets off a branch and laying it out on the ground to keep Bilbo off the dirt. He let out his own stream of curses as Bard gently laid the adaro down.

In the end, there wasn’t much they could do for him. 

In Laketown Bilbo had very firmly refused to let him stitch up anything near his ribs, where the terrible gash now laid nearly on top of the cut he’d gotten from the barrel ride. Oin didn’t know if it was a cultural thing or a legitimate concern that Bilbo couldn’t allow the skin around his gills to be pulled in such a way. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss adaro medicine. 

He couldn’t even  _ bandage _ the gaping wound, because the cloth would cover Bilbo’s gills, and that was  _ very obviously _ a bad move.

Oin did his best to make a splint for the obviously broken tail and straightened out his fins to the best of his ability. He had a few presses that could be used and he worried over Bilbo’s ribs, but he  _ didn’t know _ what adaro needed. Any poultices or ointments he  _ could  _ use would just be washed away by the water.

And  _ still _ Bilbo wouldn’t wake up.

Bard shared his thoughts of fish sleeping in Winter, Arkaley having bolted for less stressful jobs after the dwarves had arrived. But they didn’t know if Bilbo was hibernating or sleeping due to his injuries.

They just  _ didn’t know. _

It had been maddening enough when they were forced to sit and wait helplessly while Kili and Thorin lay sleeping. It was even  _ worse _ when the reason they couldn’t do anything was because they had no fucking clue what to do. At least with Kili they  _ knew _ there wasn’t anything left they could do to help. 

Here, they were helpless. 

* * *

 

“Alright now, how’s everyone been holdin up?” Balin began once they’d all squeezed themselves into the tent. 

Fili was back in his own cot and everyone was doing their best to not stare at Thorin’s empty bed, feeling his absence keenly even though he’d been unconscious anyways. In the interest of everyone still squeezing into the tent comfortably Bombur had stayed with Bifur in their tent. Gloin only reluctantly allowed Dain’s guards to take over watch of the Durin’s tent so he could be involved in the discussion.

“Dori’s bein a mother hen.” Ori muttered. “I’ve got but a few scratches an she acts like I’m gonna keel over any minute.”

Balin patted his arm comfortingly. Since Ori’d been following him and writing down any official business Balin and Dain agreed on, he’d seen Dori’s aggressive care firsthand.

“Yer but a child,” Dori tried defending.

“And we’ll go in circles arguin this.” Dwalin muttered. Dori and Ori gave each other aggravated looks.

“Dain’s pleased ta help Erebor and Laketown pick up the pieces,” Balin said, changing the subject before a family argument broke out in full. “First priority’s been taking care of wounded and figuring out shelters. We’ll settle in the mountain when Winter hits hardest but fer now we’re goin ta stick with the tents seein as their Highnesses can’t be moved just yet.” Thorin had only been moved for his surgery. Kili was far too high risk right now.

“It’s been three days,” Bofur said quietly. “Has nobody found Bilbo?”

The tent went very quiet as they all traded looks and small words of denial. 

“The last time anyone saw him was at the battlements?” Dwalin asked, restating the last information they’d had on Bilbo’s whereabouts.

“Gandalf and Bard saw him last before the Battle,” Balin said. “Though that does not help us in the least.”

“Several soldiers have mentioned seeing a wee thing running in and out of everyone’s legs.” Gloin spoke up, everyone’s attention on him instantly. “They didn’t look closely an most don’t hardly know whether they saw anything or not, but some remember seein what mighta been him.”

“Not any sign of him afterwards?” Dwalin pushed. 

Gloin shook his head in regret and they all felt a surge of disappointment.

“Where has the blasted Burglar gotten off to?” Dori muttered, poorly hiding her true feelings on the matter. 

Their King near dead, his heirs bedridden and one on death’s door, their Company injured and spread thin, and they still couldn’t find their hobbit… adaro.

A few minutes later, almost as if it were fate, in the middle of their quiet discussions of camp routines Nori slipped in past the guards panting and out of breath. Dori instantly stood up to stand by him but he brushed her off. 

“Bard’s men found Bilbo,” He said in between his panting breaths, controlling them sooner than anyone else would. “Oin’s tending him now. He’s being kept up by a warmer stream where the water’s clear from the blood and rot of battle.” 

It was left unsaid that Bilbo could not be brought into camp because he could not leave the water, implied and confirmed in a way that would not give away anything in case someone overheard from outside the tent. There was only so much secrecy that could be held with cloth walls.

The dwarrows all burst into numerous questions and demands for news of his health, quickly dismayed by Nori’s bad news. With a few nudges from Balin they began to reorganize their watch amongst the Company. Balin was quick to push Dwalin to guard Bilbo, since he had Ori at his side constantly. Bofur and Gloin, the only two not preoccupied with other responsibilities, were to man the guard at the Durin and Ur tents. Dori was told to stick to Oin from now on in the healer’s tents (Dori wasn’t a healer, but every pair of steady hands was needed) or wherever else they needed to go.

That was, of course,  _ after _ they all took a break for food and some sort of sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly not happy with this chapter but things Happen soon so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	5. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I continue to use too much exposition and Bilbo is very tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why the past few chapters have just been like pulling teeth, as much as i want to write for this fic, i sure am having a hard time liking anything i write for it :/

Winter closed and drew in and a month passed after the Battle of the Five Armies.

Once the snows began to truly hit hard the halls had been cleared enough for Dain’s army and entourage to retreat into the mountain. The Men had repaired enough of Dale’s larger buildings that they had ample shelter, if cramped. The elves had long since returned to their forest though Thranduil had at least left some of his healers to tend to the wounded.

Thorin awoke and remained awake, bedridden and pained but doing what he could to manage the mountain from letters and sending runners. Fili’s lungs healed up enough that he could limp around somewhat with crutches, though his ribs were still healing and using them did not help. 

Kili was the true miracle, conscious and talking weakly a week after the Battle. He wasn’t going anywhere but he was  _ alive _ and healing.

The Company could not refute that they had found Master Baggins, seeing as they had to call off the searching, but they kept prying questions away by saying he was still badly injured and had hardly made the move back inside the mountain. He needed  _ utmost _ privacy and quiet. 

This was actually somewhat true. Bilbo still didn’t wake up. Oin swore his heart beat slower and softer than it had in Laketown. The adaro did not move or twitch or give any indication of being alive other than his slow heartbeat and the soft fluttering of the fins that framed his face. 

(That had them realizing something else they had overlooked, three fine slits that fit rather snugly behind those fins along the back of his jawline. They were nearly invisible and relieved many of their fears that the more visible gills on Bilbo’s chest were too damaged for him to “breathe” properly. The fluttering of those fins, it seemed, kept water flowing over the smaller gills.)

Between the various members of the Company they managed to get Bilbo inside the mountain and squirreled away in one of the underground streams that ran through Erebor. They couldn’t guarantee that it was  _ warm  _ (and they didn’t want to really experiment with heating water with him  _ in _ it, a certain adage about frogs in pots came to mind) but it was certainly better than a shallow creek that was already frozen over in the cold. 

The underground streams of Erebor were truly one of its greater mysteries. Some dwarves in times of old had dove and swam in the tunnels in warmer months, mapping out various curving ventures, but there was only so far one could go without breath. There were many places where streams had been diverted and moved to run water up the mountain, further changing the channels. 

There were most notably quite a few places where the waters had been exposed to caverns, rushing waterways flickering by before diving back into the rock. It was in one of those places, a shrine set up for Mahal with trickling fountains of running waters, where they had settled Bilbo.

Every day at all times, at least one of the Company was there to watch over him. Thorin and the princes couldn’t visit him so every guard of the day had to report to them on any progress. There was none. Bilbo slept, fluttered his fins in the faint current of the fountain he’d been placed in, and grew thinner very, very slowly. 

* * *

 

It was dark.

That was the first thing to pierce Bilbo’s consciousness. Then the pain followed it fairly soon after. It was a numbed pain, though, and quickly followed by the realization that he was very  _ cold. _

He drifted for a long time, unsure of what was happening. Deep down he remembered warm, bright waters full of life and sound.

That was the next thing he noticed. The silence. The water here was confined, ordered, controlled. It echoed horribly but also there was nothing  _ to _ echo except the sound of more water. 

Then something began to reach past the silence. Voices. Familiar ones.

The voices spoke and he didn’t know what they were saying, but it filled him with a deep peace and contentment to hear the rolling vibrations ring and clash against echoing stone. Water and stone  _ both _ echoed and multiplied sound and here the voices sounded almost ethereal in his unconscious state.

Eventually Bilbo began to parse bits and pieces of those words when the cold numbed the pain enough. Thoughts came very slow to him and it took him a long time to realize he recognized some of those words as names.

“Yeah I’ll finish up in a minute, Gloin, just tellin Bilbo how stressed Bombur’s been in the kitchens an all.”

“Cain’t believe ye still think he hears ya.”

“He does, I swear! Those lil fins flutter in time to my charming voice, I’d stake me hat on it.”

“His fins aren’t the same as  _ ears, _ ya lout. Come on, Thorin’ll wanna hear yer report for the day.”

Thorin. 

That. That was familiar. 

Hmm…

“It’s not like I’ve got anythin to say any different. Bilbo slept, I whittled, I walked down the hall to make sure nobody’s been walkin nearby, same old same old.”

Eyes opened and then decided there was enough light to hurt the ache in his head more than before. He closed them and focused on the awkward way the voices bounced off and away from the water.

Ah. They were  _ above _ the water. That might be a bit of a problem.

“Ach, ye know it puts Thorin’s mind at rest ta hear bout im. Even if he ain’t doin nothin but sleepin still.”

How curious. He appeared to be in a  _ container. _

He at least had enough vague memories of using hobbit baths for a quick dunk to not be too horribly terrified by the prospect, but set about to scoping out his surroundings the first way he could think of.

By getting  _ out. _

“Mahal’s  _ beard, _ Bofur, go get Oin!”

Bilbo’s hand, holding the edge of the fountain and quickly realizing he did  _ not _ have the strength to pull himself above the hold of the water, was grabbed by a fierce yet gentle grip. The hands were dry at first but were quickly soaked by Bilbo’s own skin.

“Bilbo, Bilbo do ya hear me?” Another hand entered the water and grabbed his arm, somehow invasive and yet comforting at the same time.

Bilbo knew that voice. His head was too fuzzy and…  _ bluzzy _ to remember who that voice  _ was _ or what it was saying, but he knew that voice and the concerned tone was rather telling. He gave a gentle chirruping noise. He was too tired to really  _ say _ anything but he hoped it gave the voice some comfort.

“Aye, that’s it laddie, wake up.” 

The voice was pleased. Good. Bilbo squeezed the hand before weakly pulling his own back underwater. The hand on his arm let go and Bilbo felt its loss keenly, but contented himself with stiffly reorganizing himself in the water. He was all stiff and uncomfortable. He’d been laying on hard rock like a lump and past the numbed pain of serious wounds he could feel everything aching at him for it.

Once Bilbo had curled up (painfully, might he add, and not anywhere near the way he would have preferred) he let out another chur to the voice above the water and let himself drift back into sleep. 

* * *

 

He vaguely remembered waking several more times before finally regaining consciousness to the point where he actually understood what was going on. Well, everything was still fuzzy and blurry from pain and cold but he was at least capable of actually  _ thinking _ on some level now.

His less conscious self had at least recognized  _ safety _ so he found himself not panicking when he woke up. The background noise of voices conversing above the water filtered into actual words and voices he recognized. Fili, Oin, and Nori. They were speaking fairly quietly but stone and water made it easy to hear.

Bilbo’s small movements he made in an attempt to get up were noticed rather quickly.

While voices barraged him asking if he was awake, Bilbo bared his teeth in pain and couldn’t help a small high pitched keen. Everything _ hurt. _ Mostly his chest and his spine. Ulmo, his  _ spine.  _

Bilbo let out another keen, quieter and less of a whistle, before attempting to push that aside and took stock. His chest hurt  _ so bad _ but his left arm was more functional than his right. His left  _ shoulder _ was still aching (he remembered the orc bite) but not enough to deter him.

He grabbed the ledge of whatever container he was in and pulled his head up to the surface. It always struck him as funny and odd, when he was younger, the feeling of water falling away. Now he just recognized that he was much heavier in the air without water to hold him up.

Bilbo’s eyes squinted open, wide pupils taking in too much torchlight at once for eyes that had been in the dark for nearly two months. He managed to prop his arm and chin on the stone edge and peered at the three dwarves crouched excitedly in front of him.

“Bilbo, can ye hear me?” Oin said.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His words were muffled and slurred to near nonsense, but the three dwarves cheered nonetheless. Fili then winced and Oin smacked him on the arm. “You’re hurt.” His eyes blinked slowly but he stared at Fili with a tired worry.

“I’m healing up just fine, it’s you I’m more worried about!” Fili laughed breathlessly. Bilbo squinted again but he supposed that was fair. “It wasn’t until after Bard’s Men found you that we even heard from Uncle that he’d last seen you slipping under the ice after  _ Azog _ of all things!” Fili leaned in close.

“Seeing as we haven’t heard from the bastard since, I’m supposin ye did him in, though he certainly did a number on ye as well.” Nori said, wincing a little.

Bilbo considered that for a moment. “He couldn’t breathe underwater.” He eventually said. Fili and Nori cackled, Oin pushing them aside.

“Master Baggins, I need ta know if yer kind can take the same herbs as dwarrow and Men.” The healer’s forehead was screwed up tightly. “I also need ta hear if ya have any knowledge of yer kind’s treatments for wounds.”

“And wot ya eat!” Nori contributed. “Ye ain’t had hardly a bite since the Battle, I’m surprised yer not skin an bones!”

Bilbo closed his eyes, trying to think further past the fog in his head. “...pressed plants, held to wounds with wraps made of reeds and water plants.” He managed tiredly. “What works for Men should work well enough. Nothing to cloud the water.” One of his ear fins twitched and he grimaced. “You… can wrap my ribs, as long as my higher gills stay uncovered.” He let out a warbling sigh and sank lower into the water. “...I'm tired. Adaro usually… sleep through injuries, while family take care of open wounds.” 

“Is that why ye haven't woken?” Oin asked, patting his arm with an assuring smile. 

“...partially.” Bilbo squinted suspiciously, knowing Oin was leaving something out of that but too tired to truly dig for the truth. “It's too cold.”

“Well, if’n it isn't a danger, you can go back to sleep.” Oin smiled fondly. “We'll be sure ta keep an eye on ya, laddie.”

Bilbo, feeling the pull of exhaustion, agreed with that idea. 

“But first, can I have something to rest on? Flat stone is an  _ awful  _ nest.” Bilbo said, sinking back underwater even as he spoke. 

He was asleep before they could even respond but the next time he woke up he was laid on a soft, if uncomfortably arranged pile of blankets underwater. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo wakes up and is more inclined to STAY awake, if only to find out what harm his dwarves have gone through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy I return to The Hobbit fandom with a weird somewhat filler chapter of Bilbo and Fili bonding??? I guess. This scene gave me so much trouble that when I sorta shifted out of a LotR mood I just shrugged and threw up my hands at it

“Bilbo, you're awake!”

He whistled tiredly, opening a single eye.

“Hullo.” Bilbo smiled at Fili. “Don't tell me you've been watching me since last time.”

“Hardly budged an inch.” Fili said, grinning. “How do you feel?”

“...tired.” Bilbo said simply, eye closing again. He had his head propped up on the edge of the stone again. “Where are we..?”

Now that he was awake enough he could get glimpses of the hall he resided in, a small and cosy cavern that somehow still gave off the feeling of a grand space; mostly due to the intricate carvings and ancient inlays he could see faintly from his spot in a side fountain of the room. A small makeshift fireplace crackled close enough that he attributed it to the water's  _ slightly _ less frozen feel than last he remembered.

In any case, Bilbo’s eyes weren’t meant for seeing in dark circumstances, so he couldn’t see much from his glorified tub. The torches and firelight didn’t reach the expansive ceilings and walls.

“One of Mahal’s shrines, the warmest running waters we could find once the snowstorms hit. We’re pretty deep in the mountain.” Bilbo frowned and looked up at a suddenly wincing Fili.

“...how long have I been asleep?”

“We couldn't find you after the Battle,” Fili said instead of answering directly. “One of Bard’s people found you in the reeds.” If that was an attempt at distracting him it  _ worked. _ Bilbo shot up in the water, fins flaring in a panic. He then hissed and fell back in pain.

“One of the Men?! How many know-?!”

“Only two,” Fili was quick to reassure him. “Arkaley and Ulpin, and they're both trustworthy! I've met them and they've  _ sworn  _ to secrecy. They seem to be good folk, for Men.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but be scared anyways. Big Folk were NOT friendly to creatures they didn’t know. Bilbo was almost certain he’d already be in a lot of trouble with other adaro for letting the Company know as is. That he’d  _ been seen by Big Folk  _ was a huge deal he didn’t want to let anyone back home know. Dwarves were one thing! Men were an  _ entirely  _ different situation!

Still, Bilbo trusted the Company. Probably not for the  _ best, _ but he trusted them nonetheless. He held Fili’s word of their trustworthiness as well enough for now.

“Are you alright..?” Fili said cautiously, leaning in towards him with a sincere frown. Bilbo’s ear fins flicked tiredly and he hummed.

“I… was merely startled, is all, and jostled some fins not quite straightened out yet.” Bilbo explained as he finally settled himself back against the fountain’s edge. 

“Your fins flare like a… like a cat, almost,” Fili remarked with a small grin. “It’s cute.” Bilbo rolled his eyes. He watched Fili carefully, noting the youngling’s grin being just so awkward and forced.

“Fili. How long has it been since the Battle?” He said seriously, making sure the dwarf knew he wasn’t going to tolerate being distracted even more. Fili winced.

“Oin said he didn’t want you being upset or bothered because you were injured... and by now it’s obvious your fins go all,” Fili waved a hand expressively. “Panicky when you get upset! And you’re fussy quite often already.”

“First off, Fili, that’s like refusing to speak to someone with a wound on their face to keep them from stretching it,” Bilbo lectured unhappily. “ _ Perhaps _ helpful but overall just frustrating for all involved and resulting in them yelling at you anyways. Second, I am not a  _ child,  _ I know that’s not the sole reason.” Bilbo wilted a little bit. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s the middle of the night, can this at least wait until I’m not the only one down here? They’ll be mad at me for telling you.” Fili said, hunched in on himself guiltily. Bilbo’s eyes narrowed firmly. “...it’s been a bit over a month,” Fili eventually muttered, unable to look at those unnaturally wide pupils. 

Despite knowing it was the one of the reasons they didn’t want to upset him, Bilbo couldn’t help his fins reflexively raising in dismay. He managed to force his flinch down and his fins from flaring too dramatically. Luckily he was already doing his hardest to not move… well,  _ anything  _ below his shoulders, and the majority of his fins were already being held stiff and loosely down to avoid movement.

Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut and pushed himself away from the fountain’s edge, sinking underwater.

“Bilbo?” Fili leaned over the fountain’s edge worriedly. Bilbo just made a wordless, strangled noise that seemed to get across his frustrated dismay. Fili leaned back and sighed in understanding. “That’s understandable, it’s… we’ve been real worried. Especially since it took so long to  _ find  _ you and then when we  _ did  _ you’d literally gone a round with Azog.” Fili ran a hand over his hair with a pinched face that Bilbo couldn’t see, huddled in his blankets underwater. “You wouldn’t wake up, you looked like a crumpled parchment, and we just…” Fili sighed shakily.

Hearing this, Bilbo crept back up to the surface and peered out with a frown. 

“I’m sorry to have everyone so worried.” Bilbo offered, looking up at the dwarf. “...You’re hurt... was anyone else?”

Fili shook his head in disbelief, smiling fondly. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Bilbo, it’s hardly your fault! We all just missed you.” He sighed and leaned against his good knee. “Most everyone was at least banged up a little, but…” He made a motion towards himself. “I injured my ribs real bad and broke a leg, as you can see.” His left leg had a plaster cast on it that was covered in what looked like inked khuzdal. And some small doodles.

Bilbo winced in sympathy. “You’ll have to come swimming with me sometime.” He said idly but then Fili raised an eyebrow. “...do dwarves not know swimming is good for injured limbs? I don’t  _ think  _ it’s just a thing hobbits can do...”

“I don’t see how it would be, really.” Fili’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh it’s not the best for all ailments, but for broken bones and damaged muscles it is immensely helpful. When you’re in the water you weigh less, because the water holds you up.” Bilbo explained drowsily. “So moving about in the water helps you exercise weakened muscles while still having support and lowering risk of further damage. Hobbits don’t get injured all too often but it’s well known that the best help after a serious injury is to have a good swim. With a friendly adaro helping, of course.”

Fili looked deeply thoughtful and somewhat mischievous. “Uncle should  _ definitely _ help test that.” Bilbo’s array of head fins flared stiffly, the teasing tone going right over his head in favor of the more important part.

“Thorin was hurt..?” He whispered, looking completely distraught.

“Well… Aye.” Fili said lamely, unsure how to soften the news after his joke had gone so awry. “He was stabbed in the abdomen and shoulder.” He hesitated before continuing. “He also had a wound in his foot that grew infected and they had to…” 

He didn’t have to continue, he knew Bilbo understood from the utterly dismayed look on the adaro’s face. It was almost odd, seeing familiar emotions on such an alien face, but also comforting to remember that Bilbo wasn’t really that different.

“He’s alright, now..?” 

“Oh aye, bedridden and raising a huge fuss every time he tries to get up on crutches.” Fili rolled his eyes. “Oin  _ and _ all the other healers keep telling him he can’t be up and about until his collarbone is together and the stump heals, but noooo, he’s a stubborn-” Fili muttered some less than favorable insults under his breath and Bilbo looked like he would laugh if he didn’t  _ also _ have broken ribs.

“Well…” Bilbo’s ear fins flicked sharply, uneasily. “It’s not a good idea with open wounds, but if it’s been a month since he got them, yes, swimming in shoulder deep water should help him get up on his feet sooner.” Bilbo flinched. “...foot.”

“He’ll be able to have a prosthetic once the stump heals enough,” Fili said kindly. “Like our cousin Dain. Dwarves know how to craft metal limbs and once Thorin’s in good health he’ll receive the best.”

Bilbo’s fins finally relaxed a bit and he smiled. It fell away a minute later. “...so might I assume Kili is bedridden too?” Fili’s flinch told him everything. “I figured, since if you forced your way down here with a broken leg, it would take only being bedridden to keep your brother away.” Bilbo said dully.

“He’s awake and talking,” Fili tried. “He was… really bad, for a long while, but… he’s doing much better.”

“...how badly was he hurt..?” 

“Bolg stabbed him completely through the chest.” Fili said grimly. Bilbo gasped a little and then cringed and forced himself to relax before he hurt himself. “He…” Fili swallowed. “He was real touch and go for a long while. But he pulled through the first week and the healers say he’s past the worst of it by now.”

“That’s… that’s good.” Bilbo couldn’t figure out what to say past the worry and relief warring in him. Fili shared the awkwardness and coughed in agreement.

“Um... how are you… feeling?” Fili looked like he wanted to hit himself at the end of that sentence. Operation: change the subject, failed. Bilbo’s head fins fluttered briefly in amusement, knowing a chuckle would only hurt.

“I’m exhausted still and in large amounts of pain.” Bilbo said dryly. “Though not as much as a hobbit would be, thankfully.”

Fili blinked. “How so?” 

Bilbo was a little bemused by that response. Hadn't Fili heard his explanations in Bard’s home before they'd entered the mountain? Then again, that night was filled with an absurd number of questions and tired answers. Bilbo himself wasn't entirely sure what he had or hadn't told them. 

“Well, I don’t know about dwarves, but hobbits and in general most land creatures… well they just feel pain differently than adaro.” Bilbo would have very much liked to shrug there but was very aware of his injuries nonetheless. “My hobbit form is for all intents and purposes  _ an actual hobbit  _ so in that form I feel pain like them.” He made a nasty face, head fins flattening. “It is very… sharp. Even the most grievous of adaro injuries are dull aches, to our nerves.” He made a bemused smile. “Equal levels of pain, yes. Different  _ types _ of pain though.”

“Aches aren’t usually as bad as sharp pains, even if they happen to be stronger.” Fili said admittedly.

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded with a small smile. “So I’m… tired, and in pain, but it’s somewhat manageable.”

Somewhat being the key word. Bilbo didn't mention the fact that his… everything ached worse than anything he'd ever experienced before in his life. And that talking was hurting something awful, since he couldn't breathe with his broken ribs and wrapped lower gills. Dipping his head under repeatedly was helping him breathe with his higher gills but… it wasn’t the best to breathe solely through them for extended periods of time. 

Fili relaxed in relief. “That's good! That's… great, good.” He let out a long sigh and ran his hand through his braids. “I… should probably go get Oin? Or... are you hungry? You never said what adaro eat, and it's been a month since you ate anything besides what watered down broth Oin got in you.” He leaned forwards in his seat.

“Adaro are carnivores,” Bilbo said, ‘grinning’ a little and baring his teeth. He faltered when Fili’s eyes widened in some slight fear. “But broth is fine, yes.” His head tilted faintly and fins fluttered. 

“Ah, sorry. Just didn't realise your teeth were… so sharp?” Fili groaned and rubbed his forehead. “You know what? I'm tired and not thinking straight. I'm going to go get you Oin and some food.”

The adaro smiled somewhat, carefully with his lips and not his teeth. “It's alright.” Bilbo said quietly as Fili stood himself up clumsily with his crutch. 

“No it's not,” Fili said with an awkward smile. “You're a little creepy at first sight but you're still Bilbo, and I'd like to think I've gotten you know you pretty well over the Quest. And I'm a prince, I should know how to avoid sticking my boot in my mouth.”

Bilbo felt his chest burn a little at the heartfelt side of Fili’s words. Frankly he'd never _ met _ anyone who was frightened of his natural form. Even fauntlings were accustomed to adaro from a young age. The dwarves’ initial reactions all hurt, internally, even though Bilbo couldn't _ fault _ them for being startled. That they'd quickly adapted and became unbothered was the best balm Bilbo could hope for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm done with this chapter, tbh, so have at it! I'm trying to find a way to mix in exposition about adaro without actually like giving too much away OR sounding like I'm just tossing adaro shit at yall. Dunno if I've been successful or not.
> 
> By the way! When I very first wrote that small bit about swimming helping injuries, I was mainly thinking about how hilarious it would be to have Bilbo and Thorin being gay for each other while doing so, so go ahead and check out the sidefic I made elaborating on the scenario. It's got lots of pining and some background ships.


End file.
